Fa Fa l'Americano
by italianmagician
Summary: Alfred meets Chiara at a bar, and maybe he's a teensy bit crazy for her. A teeny bit. So, naturally, as mister Hotshot Football Guy, he's got to seduce her or woo her, or something like that, to keep his dignity intact. America x Fem!Romano HUMAN AU. Rating may go up, but probably not.
1. Chapter 1

It's a stretch, but the blaring music and the couple of beers that Alfred's already had could be what makes him think the girl right in the center of the club, dancing with some ravenhaired asshole who's obviously just after her tits, is the finest piece of lady he's ever seen.

A long, crazy stretch, of course. Damn is she smoking hot if he does say so, and leaning against the bar, he turns to watch her shake her hips under the guy's hands with a stupid smirk on his face. Who had a bigger smirk, he wasn't sure. It was going to be the blonde, really damn soon. Ha-ha, suck my dick, loser.

Well that didn't really matter much. Giving his brother a whack with a mutter of "watch my beer", Alfred slid off the barstool and headed the lady's direction. She just looked better and better the closer he got, and he ignored a "hey pal what the Sam Hill do you think you're doin'?" as he shoved the black-haired man away, looking at the girl who seemed to be a little miffed, but not too bad.

"'Ey there." Alfred grinned, one of those charmer grins you should never trust. She flicked her pretty auburn locks over her shoulder, raising a brow. "You should dance with me for a while, 'nstead'a that slug."

When she spoke, she had a cute accent. Italian accent, he'd say. And her voice was kind of high but still melodic. Sure as hell wasn't hard to hear but fit her good looks. "Oh, really? An' I suppose you want to pay me for a night in bed, too?" She put her hand on her hip. It was obvious to her that he'd been drinking. Glancing at the bar, she saw an empty stool, though there was a glass of something (beer, by the smell of it) there. "'s all he was after." she jerked her head to the man who'd turned away to find some other cat.

Alfred shook his head. "Nah. Jus' a nice couple hours dancin' with ya, especially if that asshole was just after a lay from you. Course," he chuckled, leaning down to put his lips by her ear, "if you're beggin' for it by th' end of the nicht, I might not argue." She groaned, pushing his face away from hers.

"You might get one dance if you don't act like some high'n mighty asshole all the damn time," she told him, green eyes glinting as the green spotlight rolled past them. "But one's it."

_Comme te po' capì chi te vò bene- si tu le parle 'mmiezzo americano? _

__ Alfred grinned as the lyrics started to the song. He knew this one. And my, didn't it fit? Maybe she wasn't first generation American, but she certainly still had the accent. He'd bet his car she could speak it flawlessly, too. Mmm, he could just imagine her whispering dirty things in Italian into his ear and oh god he was going to give that beer to Matt the second he got back to the bar.

No, he really shouldn't drink that much, he decided, but hey, that was a different situation for later, he decided, resting his hands just below her waist and the leather jacket that ended at her ribs. She'd obviously had clubbing in mind tonight, and if she were a normal girl, she'd probably have a clique of friends close by, watching her every move and tittering about it.

"One's just enough," he muttered, smirking as her hands went to rest on his shoulders. She realised why he seemed familiar, and she snickered as well. He was one of the football guys at her college. Go figure. "Just enough fer you an' me."

"Good thing, because your girlfriend ain't going to be too peachy about you dancing with me," she muttered, hiding a grin. She didn't like Amelia, anyhow. He just shrugged it off, and she danced a bit closer to him, swaying her hips like she had for the man before him.

_Fa fa, l'americano-_

_Oh hell yes._ Alfred grinned as she started to move her hips like he'd seen before. He let his hands wander lower to her hips, turning her around and leaning down to whisper. "Amelia be damned, you're hot." He thought he might recognise her, actually. The girl in his arms, not Amelia.

Well, yes Amelia but that's beside the point.

Chuckling as she could see his blue eyes wandering where she didn't want them to, she gave his chin a whack. "You have your own whore to look at." He tried to move his hands lower, maybe to her thighs, but she whacked his hand away and moved them back to her waist, though he could get away with on her hips.

Damn, she wasn't very cooperative, was she? She'd dance for him, and he danced a bit, too, but his focus was on her and the beat, wishing it'd never actually come to an end, just have the beat go on forever and never add a new song.

He huffed slightly, ignoring the glance she tossed at him with a raised brow. "Alfred, let go. The song's over." He hadn't noticed, but he tightened his grip again.

"One more?"

"No. I said one."

He shifted uncomfortably. "What's your name, anyways? How do you know mine?"

The lady rolled her eyes. "Chiara. We go to the same school, dumbfuck."

"Oh. Well, nice to meet you, Chiara," he purred, grabbing one of her hands and pulling it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back before she could twist her hand away. "I'll find you sometime, yeah?"

"Nope." Wiping her hand on her shorts, she twisted out of his grip. "Stick to the field, Jones."

He would have chased after her, but no, she stopped at a booth with a few other girls, picking something up off the table and grabbing the hand of another girl he vaguely recognized before they walked out the door, waving to their friends.

He saw the other girl give a kiss to Chiara's cheek.

Hold on, _what?_


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred didn't notice her hanging around for quite some time. He looked, of course he did, but he didn't see her. They really must not have had the same kind of classes, since he didn't pass her in the halls or anything. It was really frustrating, to be honest, but since he didn't even know her name, what the hell was he supposed to do?

Well, for starters, he broke up with Amelia, and made a point to ignore her vicious glares she threw at him anytime they were within the same four walls. God, it was a great thing looks couldn't kill. He even went back to that club from before a couple times, but no luck.

By the time Halloween rolled around, he'd about given up.

Then, pulling out of his parking spot at the college, he saw her. Oh, god, he was absolutely positive that was her, with her dark brown curls and that black leather jacket. Except it was brown. Whatever, close enough, it was pretty dark and _irrelevant. _It was like a game of irrelevance, but she looked like she was alone, walking somewhere with shades on top of her head and headphones slung around her neck, her eyes focused on her phone. Maybe she was murmuring to herself, though, or on a video chat with someone. Alfred pulled out of his spot, in his nice big old blue Ford F-150.

He'd give her a ride, that's what he would do. Pulling up beside her (but not on the sidewalk, of course) he rolled down the passenger window. "Hey, there! Remember me?" he called, grinning as she jumped and looked up.

"Albert, right?" she said, pursing her lips. Alfred shook his head. "Oh, you're the football guy from the club." He picked up his grin again quickly and nodded, but the woman just turned away and started to walk again, much to his displeasure.

"H-Hey! Do you want a ride?" he called, following alongside her, and she sighed, slowly turning back to him and his dumb truck. "I mean, 'cause I can give you one and stuff. If you want. There's no houses or whatever anywhere close by."

The brunette narrowed her (pretty) green eyes. "You've got a girlfriend, I told you that. I don't care. My place isn't that far." Alfred scoffed.

"I broke up with her. Too clingy." But by the way she rolled her eyes and picked up her headphones, that wasn't what she'd wanted to hear. "Look, just get in, okay? I'm trying to be nice."

"You don't even know my name, why the hell should I bother with you?" she snapped, shifting her bag on her shoulder. It even looked heavy.

Alfred huffed, unlocking the car. "You're Chiara." She blinked. So did he. How did he know that? Well…  
Whatever. "Come on. It isn't like I'm gonna drag you to some back alley and beat you up or something stupid like that." With a sigh, she gave up, grabbing the handle of the truck and opening the door, glaring at him tiredly.

"One time, Jones. This is it." Climbing into the truck, she sat down and closed the door, and he sighed, then smiled. "I live downtown."

Not far from the college, yeah right. He pursed his lips, glancing at her and waiting for her to buckle her seatbelt. "East, west, where?" he pressed, pulling forward to get away from the college. "Gotta know these things, yanno."

"Just go to the club. I'll walk from there." She settled back in the seat, glancing around the interior, and he shrugged. Now to find something to talk about.

"So…" he started uncertainly. He was used to girls talking all the time, but maybe that was just Amelia. Her attention moved to him, and he thought for a minute. "What're you here for, the college, I mean. Like, what's your major and all that."

Her answer surprised the blonde. "Chemistry." Chiara folded her arms over her chest, glancing at him again. "What? No need to be so shocked or whatever." Alfred shrugged.

"It's just, I wouldn't have put you in with that. Like, art or something I guess. Maybe fashion." Amelia was going to the school for its art courses, but she intended to move to a better school. Whatever. "What kind of chem?"

"Physical chem," she sighed, watching the road even though she'd been down it several times. "Basically just physics." He hummed, sitting back in his seat. "It's really cool stuff, actually. I like quantum mechanics. Like, what keeps the world turning, really. I want to go on with quantum mechanics."

It did sound rather interesting, Alfred had to admit. "Did you ever watch the show 'Quantum Leap' when you were a kid?" he asked curiously. "With the scientist who kept getting sent around in time and his best friend was like this hologram-ghost thing that only he could see, and in each place he had to take the life of someone that did something important and make sure they did it right?" Chiara looked confused, or maybe just thoughtful. "Probably not, it was kind of a weird show. Watched it with my old man when I was a kid."

Chiara shook her head slowly. "I don't think so. I haven't ever really watched much TV at all, let alone when I was little. But it sounds interesting." They were almost to her apartment she shared with her cousin Marianne. "And you're at the school for football, right?" she asked.

Surprisingly he shook his head. "I'm actually there for math, isn't that crazy? 'Course I don't help it with doing football, getting bashed around all the time." He snickered. "I'm gonna get a concussion, just you watch, and I'll lose it all. I'll have to go to something dumb, like being a garbage man, just because I got whacked around."

Quietly, she laughed as well. "What kind of math? Trying to solve that unsolvable million-dollar equation? I have news for you, kid," she drawled. "It got solved last year sometime. The guy didn't even want the money." The blonde squawked. "The hell was that?"

But then he was laughing, so she just kind of stared at him. After a minute or two, he spoke again. "What was it, a no solution?"

"I don't even remember, it was just total bullshit. He spent like, twenty years doing the damn thing and he said he wanted to do it just to prove it could be done."

"Wow."

"Right?"

Pulling up to the curb, Alfred kept a sigh to himself, then smiled at the brunette as she grabbed her backpack. "You know, I'd love to talk to you more, about your, uh, quantum mechanics stuff. We're both math people, huh?"

Chiara looked at him, studying his face. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah." He smiled brightly. "Preferably when you don't have to get home and I don't have football practice."

"Then it looks like you're out of luck until December, when practice is over and there's no games left."

Alfred frowned a bit. "Actually, Saturday, I don't have anything, no practices or classes or whatever. Do you?"

Chiara sighed, shifting her headphones around her neck. "I have work Saturday night." Well, he never said it had to be at night.

"Saturday afternoon or morning, then?" The man wasn't about to give up anytime soon. "I could pick you up and we could go to the park downtown. The farmer's market is starting up again this week. We could grab lunch at the market, and sit by the stage. My friend's band is gonna play there around one."

"Are you asking me on a date, Jones?" she said quietly, unlocking the door. "Because if that's it, I'm not interested."

He lifted his hands in defense. "A friend-date, if you would prefer that. It isn't like I'm intending to drag you downtown and try and fuck you or something, really." She narrowed her (pretty) green eyes. "Honest. Just like, getting to know you. You seem real cool and I want to be friends, not some massive dick."

Opening the door, she stepped out to the curb, and Alfred rested his hands on the wheel, pressing his lips together. "Don't be late." She muttered, slamming the door shut and walking to the apartment building.

He stared after her for a moment, mouth agape in surprise. The poor kid had been positive she was going to just shoot him down and walk over his pathetic (but nice) ass.

"Oh God yes."

Chiara didn't hear him, thank God. He took a moment to watch after her, admiring her frame and sense of fashion. It suited her, he thought, thinking about her personality and appearance and clothing. Amelia had rubbed off on him too much to have made this something he actually thought about. Oh, well. In his side view mirror, he could see that crazy old meter maid in her little buggy thing coming down the street, and slowly, he pulled away from the curb.

Upstairs, Chiara dropped her backpack by her desk, opening her laptop and ignoring the nosy questions of Marianne. Opening Chrome (after waiting for the computer to kick itself awake and accept her password), she was about to go to her e-mail, but paused, hand hovering over the keys, before typing slowly and carefully. "q-u-a-n-t-u-m l-e-a-p" .

She could at least make an effort. It had sounded interesting.

"Hey, Marianne, want to have an old TV show marathon?"


End file.
